Thank you for your post. Your story really stuck with me. Probably because I am always trying to get in step with something or someone. I'm offbeat and out of time... always. Nobody ever reads this...or comments, if they do...so thank you. Especially, for such a meaningful post. God Bless You My Friend.
Jamie
P.S. - Do you think there's any significance in the piece of plastic's color?
Monday, November 20, 2006
Hurricane Season
I have written in a while. There's not too much to say on forgiveness. Except, that it's a process. You never "get there"! It's a minute by minute, day by day thing. You have to work at it by the second. Two steps forward, 1 step back...always. I did receive an article from a good friend on the subject. Leslie Hendricks, who was my massage therapist. in Montclair, NJ (she's amazing). Now she's more of a friend. She sent me an article on forgiveness and the physiological effects on forgiving. I lost the article though. All I can say is that there's many health benefits to letting go and moving on...lower blood pressure, better cholestoral levels, deeper sleep cycles etc.
I landed in the hospital again. This time for a manic state I couldn't get out of. As I get older, I see how truly debilitating depressive disorders can be. It seems like I get sicker and sicker as each year goes by. I'm on 6 medications now, just to keep the mania at bay. It seems crazy to me. The old me would be scared of the new me. I always thought these disorders were bullshit. They were scarey. They were something others had. Some crazy shit that nut jobs had...not me. Now that I'm in therapy, I look at my past and see how truly sick I've always been. My role-models, my standards were set by other sick people. So, I just saw myself as a girl. So did everyone else. Girls go through dramatic shit...right? Wrong. It wasn't normal. And if I can find any peace in all this, it lay in the fact that I don't have to live that way anymore. No more crazy fits of anger and despair. It's not normal. It's not "O.K.". And I don't have to settle for that type of life.
My doctor spewed off a list of all the manic-depressive celebrities. that he knows about. Manics tend to be highly creative people who do their best works in the hypo-manic stage. Van Gogh was manic. My therapist, Dr. W. Leibhauser, saw an exhibit Van Gogh did on wheat fields (something like that). The paintings themselves were huge, wall-size painting. There must've been at least ten of them. And, he did them all within a week's time!? What? He was in a manic state. My doctor also said they were "breathtaking". Why does such beauty always come at the expense of pain. Real pain and beauty go hand-in-hand. Is that beautiful, or sad? I don't know. Maybe, both.
In the book, The Thornbirds, the author opens witha tale about the thornbirds. They spend their entire lives trying to sing the most beautiful of songs. Their entire lives are dedicated to finding this beauty and mastering this art. Ultimately, the impale themselves on thorns, and as the thorn penetrates, they let out the most beautiful songs imagineable. And then, they die, at peace. What expense, what lengths, do I go to in order to find such beauty? How much pain do I have to take so that others may find me beautiful? Perhaps I will only know during my last days here on Earth.
I landed in the hospital again. This time for a manic state I couldn't get out of. As I get older, I see how truly debilitating depressive disorders can be. It seems like I get sicker and sicker as each year goes by. I'm on 6 medications now, just to keep the mania at bay. It seems crazy to me. The old me would be scared of the new me. I always thought these disorders were bullshit. They were scarey. They were something others had. Some crazy shit that nut jobs had...not me. Now that I'm in therapy, I look at my past and see how truly sick I've always been. My role-models, my standards were set by other sick people. So, I just saw myself as a girl. So did everyone else. Girls go through dramatic shit...right? Wrong. It wasn't normal. And if I can find any peace in all this, it lay in the fact that I don't have to live that way anymore. No more crazy fits of anger and despair. It's not normal. It's not "O.K.". And I don't have to settle for that type of life.
My doctor spewed off a list of all the manic-depressive celebrities. that he knows about. Manics tend to be highly creative people who do their best works in the hypo-manic stage. Van Gogh was manic. My therapist, Dr. W. Leibhauser, saw an exhibit Van Gogh did on wheat fields (something like that). The paintings themselves were huge, wall-size painting. There must've been at least ten of them. And, he did them all within a week's time!? What? He was in a manic state. My doctor also said they were "breathtaking". Why does such beauty always come at the expense of pain. Real pain and beauty go hand-in-hand. Is that beautiful, or sad? I don't know. Maybe, both.
In the book, The Thornbirds, the author opens witha tale about the thornbirds. They spend their entire lives trying to sing the most beautiful of songs. Their entire lives are dedicated to finding this beauty and mastering this art. Ultimately, the impale themselves on thorns, and as the thorn penetrates, they let out the most beautiful songs imagineable. And then, they die, at peace. What expense, what lengths, do I go to in order to find such beauty? How much pain do I have to take so that others may find me beautiful? Perhaps I will only know during my last days here on Earth.
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